blink, and then he held out his hand for the package and smiled just as naturally as could be. "I'm sorry I made a mistake," he said, "I'll fix it," and he went back to the drawer and got out another form just like the one in the roll, and wrapped it up and handed it to him. "You'll find that one is all right," he said, "I'm sorry you had to come back."
The flushed look went out of the man's face and he began to breathe easier. "Oh, that's all right," he said; "I didn't mind coming back; but of course I didn't want the wrong thing."
"Of course not," said Uncle Rob, and the man went out of the door, satisfied.
After the high-school girl was gone, a lot of college students came in, and Uncle Rob got their books for them without any trouble, except when one of them asked for a call-book, and he handed out a book on etiquette instead of on quadrille figures;—but the other fellow got laughed at wotse than Uncle Rob did;—and then Mr. Wright came in.
Mr. Wright is an old man who has a little store on the other side of the river, and he comes in every Saturday, with a basket on his arm, to stock
